 | Poetical Works of Robert Bridges excluding the eight dramas |  |
12
MORNING HYMN
O golden Sun, whose ray
My path illumineth:
Light of the circling day,
Whose night is birth and death:
My path illumineth:
Light of the circling day,
Whose night is birth and death:
That dost not stint the prime
Of wise and strong, nor stay
The changeful ordering time,
That brings their sure decay:
Of wise and strong, nor stay
The changeful ordering time,
That brings their sure decay:
Though thou, the central sphere,
Dost seem to turn around
Thy creature world, and near
As father fond art found;
Dost seem to turn around
Thy creature world, and near
As father fond art found;
Thereon, as from above
To shine, and make rejoice
With beauty, life, and love,
The garden of thy choice,
To shine, and make rejoice
With beauty, life, and love,
The garden of thy choice,
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To dress the jocund Spring
With bounteous promise gay
Of hotter months, that bring
The full perfected day;
With bounteous promise gay
Of hotter months, that bring
The full perfected day;
To touch with richest gold
The ripe fruit, ere it fall;
And smile through cloud and cold
On Winter's funeral.
The ripe fruit, ere it fall;
And smile through cloud and cold
On Winter's funeral.
Now with resplendent flood
Gladden my waking eyes,
And stir my slothful blood
To joyous enterprise.
Gladden my waking eyes,
And stir my slothful blood
To joyous enterprise.
Arise, arise, as when
At first God said Light be!
That He might make us men
With eyes His light to see.
At first God said Light be!
That He might make us men
With eyes His light to see.
Scatter the clouds that hide
The face of heaven, and show
Where sweet Peace doth abide,
Where Truth and Beauty grow.
The face of heaven, and show
Where sweet Peace doth abide,
Where Truth and Beauty grow.
Awaken, cheer, adorn,
Invite, inspire, assure
The joys that praise thy morn,
The toil thy noons mature:
Invite, inspire, assure
The joys that praise thy morn,
The toil thy noons mature:
And soothe the eve of day,
That darkens back to death;
O golden Sun, whose ray
Our path illumineth!
That darkens back to death;
O golden Sun, whose ray
Our path illumineth!
| Poetical Works of Robert Bridges excluding the eight dramas | |